


Red Strings

by kimigross



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Blood, Feelings, Intimacy, M/M, Sparring, accidental injury, graphic descriptions of at-home medical procedures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2018-08-08 11:36:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7756267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimigross/pseuds/kimigross
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As calm as he was in the battlefield, blood in a setting like this- in a safe haven, late at night with someone who trusts him- it gnaws and grinds on his senses like nothing ever had.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red Strings

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: the following contains graphic descriptions of a character resetting their nose and detailed descriptions of blood. if you're not into that best not have a look

Mutsuki shakes out his hand, and blood splatters. The adrenaline is making him shaky and boisterous, louder and more assertive than he normally is, unable to catch himself when he speaks and moves so the actions fly past him, out of his control. He would never shake blood onto the floor and ignore it as he did now- but with Urie shirtless in front of him and the pain in his face at the forefront of his mind, it’s hard to give a shit. 

“I’m.... really…. _So,_ ** _so_** _sorry_ ,” Urie says quietly, across from him, hands raised as if to steady him. His eyes are wide and he’s practically shaking. His nipples are dark and there’s blood on his white white skin. 

Mutsuki giggles, and  _ yeah he’s still shaking  _ but everything is very clear. “It’s okay!” Is what he means to say but the blood in his mouth is kind of… not letting that happen so all that comes out is this terrifying bubble-gurgle that probably isn’t helped by his reassuring smile if Urie’s horrified expression is anything to go by. 

Urie broke his nose. 

Urie broke his  _ fucking nose.  _

Mutsuki had known instantly when Urie had gotten frustrated with their fight- and yeah, maybe Mutuski had been poking at him a bit. A lot. 

Adrenaline made them both assholes. 

They had been sparring for hours, long past curfew and probably long past midnight. It’s the longest they’ve ever been  _ alone  _ together, least of all _ locked in an empty room sweating and grappling  _ together _.  _ Mutsuki’s come to discover that pushing Urie’s buttons is probably the best thing ever, especially when there’s no way for him to get out of it. So, physically, verbally, (Mutsuki wishes he could say sexually) annoying the shit out of Urie became Mutsuki’s favorite pastime. He’s almost giddy with the knowledge that these days, he’s probably the person that understands Urie the best in the entire world, and oversteps his bounds more often than not. 

They’d been fighting in a blur over the past hour- an effort to  _ increase their stamina _ , Urie had said, and Mutsuki had complied cheerfully. As if he would give up the chance to have Urie and him sweat and grab on each other until their legs gave out. 

But, anyway. Towards the end, after Mutsuki’s relentless teasing had risen and Urie was growling at him and their legs felt like lead and throwing a punch felt like lifting a trailer but they were  _ still going,  _ Mutsuki started to enter this weird sleep-deprived state of adrenaline-rushed peace where Urie was prettier than he’d ever seen him before and maybe he’d stopped to watch his hair rustle and his knuckles clench probably with a string of drool hanging off his chin and he hadn’t  _ quite  _ managed to dodge Urie’s thrown elbow- 

And. Well. Mutsuki had snapped out of it pretty fast after that. 

It doesn’t even hurt that bad yet. And Urie looks  _ miserable.  _

Mutsuki had landed on his ass, clutching his face, and then coughed up the blood that flowed down his nasal cavity on the floor and all over Urie’s feet. 

Mutsuki felt like he should feel more awkward about this. 

Somehow he didn’t. 

He tipped his head back and swallowed hard, his grin having a hard time leaving his face. He felt drunk. But at the same time too aware. His fingertips felt numb but his eyesight was crisp and the pain was starting to hit.

Urie’s hands were fluttering around his face, not touching him but seeming to get  _ almost  _ close enough. He was kneeling awkwardly beside him and holding the t-shirt he’d discarded earlier like he didn’t what to do with it. 

A deep ache settled between his eyes. Mutsuki swallowed again, choked, and then coughed, curling in on himself and jerking his knees up to his chest as the warm red splattered onto the floor and Mutsuki’s front. 

Urie was paralysed where he knelt, clutching the splattered shirt to his chest. His eyes were fixed on the blood, steadily flowing through Mutsuki’s cupped hand and staining his front. Pale like the moon.

Mutsuki came back to himself a bit. His energy, seemingly boundless not seconds earlier, left him almost instantly. He held up a hand to Urie, waved off his jerking arms, trying to help. Urie’s mouth was moving but no sound came out. Mutsuki could see the whites of his eyes. It was silent in the room except for Mutsuki’s clotted breathing. 

Mutsuki focused on Urie, breathed through his mouth and moved both of his hands over his nose. He felt along the bridge with his fingertips, pausing when he found the swollen, warped portion and winced.

He grabbed the t-shirt from Urie’s frozen hands and blew hard into it. 

“Do you need me to- do anything? We should get Sasaki--” Urie’s quick little voice, hushed and panicked. As calm as he was in the battlefield, blood in a setting like this- in a safe haven, late at night with someone who trusts him- it gnaws and grinds on his senses like nothing ever had.

Mutsuki shook his head. “Doe.” Clears his throat, blows again. “No. I’ve got it.” Mutsuki gets to his feet, somehow- Urie’s finally planted a hand on him, a steadying one on his shoulder. They’ve been in contact so many times tonight such a conservative touch seems almost foreign. 

Mutsuki, all at once, is suddenly tired as hell, body and soul. 

Urie follows after him into the bathrooms of the training room. Mutsuki flicks on the lights and cringes at the fluorescent whiteness that strikes every corner of the room. His footsteps seem loud and intruding when he drags his feet to one of the sinks. 

Mutsuki dreads looking at his reflection, but does anyway. His eyes are wide and black and bottomless, ringed with stark, greasy lashes and bags tinged with grey and purple, sheened over with sweat. 

He swears softly under his breath. Black eyes have already started to come in, turning his whites bloodshot and tired. His nose is swollen and visibly crooked, blood caked in two stripes over his lips and sticking when he opens his mouth. The blood trails lead down his neck and his shirt is liberally smeared- his hands are smudged as well, the red starting to settle under his nails. 

His eyes go to Urie in the mirror. He’s all sharp angles and contrasting shades. 

Their gazes meet.

“I’m sorry,” Urie says immediately. 

Mutsuki hangs his head and smiles wide. Laughing hurts. 

“It’s okay. Really, Urie.” Mutsuki exhales hard and straightens up, facing his reflection and pulling his shoulders back until the boy in the mirror looks somewhat together. He positions his fingertips along his nose again, and feels for the fault. “Just never thought I’d have to do this again.”

There’s a pregnant pause, Urie’s mouth opening, and Mutsuki winces. 

“What do you me-” 

He’s cut off by the abrupt  _ crack  _ of Mutsuki’s nose resetting. 

Mutuski shouts, loud and cutting in the quiet air. His hands fly away from his face and to the side of the sink. He curls and rocks back and forth on his heels and waits for the pain to fade before staring at himself again. 

Good. Fine. Before he can fully recover, he presses the tips of his thumbs and cages his forehead with his fingers- presses and  _ pu _ **_shes_ ** _ \-  _

He exhales, long and shaking, as his hands come away from his face. 

His nose is swollen and bruising, but it’s straight. He sighs. 

“...fuck.” Urie says softly. 

“Yeah.” Mutsuki looks over his shoulder at the terrified boy next to him. “ _ Fuck _ .”

Mutsuki shoves Urie’s shirt under the tap and turns on the cold water. He massages the blood out of the white fabric, scratches at the orangey ring that stays no matter what.

He can feel Urie’s eyes on him, almost frightened. 

“It was my dad,” he says, as an explanation. “I learned pretty early on how to reset it.” He feels a twinge of pride for how easily the mention of his past comes out.

Urie shifts behind him and seconds later Mutsuki feels a hand settle at the small of his back, the strong fingers twitching with overexertion and anxiety. 

Mutsuki buries his face in Urie’s shirt and scrubs hard to hide his red cheeks. 

Nights like this- when the world seems so far away while they’re so  _ together _ \- Mutsuki sometimes feels a connection between them that they both know is there but won’t name. Something sensual and tenacious and rough all at once. Their fights are filled with more concentration, the way they move around each other outside the training room becoming closer and gentler, somehow. Urie won’t lay a hand on Saiko or Shirazu but will touch Mutsuki almost absentmindedly- like he can’t quite help it. Mutsuki knows he’s been seeing Urie through rose-coloured lenses for the past few months, but even when he takes a step back and sees, Urie still doesn’t move his leg away when their thighs brush under the table at meetings. He still touches Mutsuki’s shoulder and looks him in the eye. He still leans into Mutsuki’s hand in his hair after a mission with his eyes shut and his arms around his waist. 

He still fucking panics when he accidentally breaks Mutsuki’s nose. 

But despite all this, Mutsuki knows he has to be careful. Urie’s delicate, almost, in this sense- even the slightest break in what they’ve built- what they’ve  _ created  _ together, this warm little sanctum sanctorum of peace and physicality and only each other- could bring it all down and Urie could snap back into his shell. 

Mutsuki meets Urie’s eyes in the mirror again. 

_ Very _

He gently lays his hand over Urie’s on his back. 

_ Careful.  _

Urie’s eyes flicker to the point of contact. His fingers twitch. 

Mutsuki whispers, so soft he can barely hear himself. 

“Come here.”

His eyes dart. “I don't…”

Mutsuki curls his fingertips between Urie’s knuckles gently, shifting his weight to lean closer to him.

“Please?” Mutsuki whispers, hushed and wanting.

Urie’s jittery in uncharted territory. Ready to dart at the first sign of danger. 

The tension in the air has turned to something heady and light. Mutsuki holds his breath. Urie swallows, hard-

And then takes one step to meld himself against Mutsuki’s back, sliding his fingers between Mutsuki’s.

All of his air leaves him in a rush, his chest rapidly deflating as he’s crushed to the sink. Urie’s nose just brushes the curve of his neck, his breath at a standstill. Mutsuki bares his jugular and waits, warmth beginning to gather in his gut.

Mutsuki bites his lip when Urie nuzzles under his jaw, hard. Mutsuki’s free hand flies to Urie’s hair and tugs, eliciting a whimper that’s muffled into Mutsuki’s skin. They’ve been touching and talking and dodging this for too long, and when the dam breaks and their  _ want  _ rises to the surface it's like a boiling pot- bubbling over the edges in fits and spurts, then all at once.

He squeaks and stutters when he feels Urie’s mouth press tentatively against his neck, the slight moistness where he licked his lips before. He shivers, and Urie presses harder. 

Mutsuki catches his own eye in the mirror, and gasps- he’s pinned, bloody and pale under the harsh lighting, they both are, gritty and exhausted and writhing against each other. Urie’s face is shadowed where it’s bowed at his neck, like he’s praying. They sway with each other for a moment, and then Urie’s mouth puckers and sucks and Mutsuki whips around to face him maybe a little too fast.  

Mutsuki’s hand grazes his chin and Urie’s eyes snap up to his. He's messy and slick with sweat and spit and dirt and Mutsuki might fall in love. Just a little.

Something in Urie’s eyes clears. 

“...Mutsuki. “

“What?” Mutsuki straightens, the atmosphere dispersing almost immediately. Mutsuki suddenly becomes aware of different things- like the absoutely frigid temperature of the bathroom and the dull throb that has taken up residence in the front of his skull. “Was, uh.. Was that okay?”

Urie looks at him a moment and swallows. He raises a trembling hand and lays it gently over Mutsuki’s cheek, fingers threading through his hair.

His lips move slightly, murmuring under his breath. 

“Pardon?”

“...Should get you a bandage.” He says quietly. 

Then Mutsuki thinks that something happens, in the absence of air between them- Something snaps or changes, a final barrier dropped, as quietly and gently as the way Urie’s breath ghosts over his mouth. And Mutsuki doesn't care that his nose is broken or that it's well past midnight or that Urie is emotionally stunted and works hard to get any expression of concern past his lips. 

He doesn’t care that maybe they’re not the best match. 

Mutsuki still thinks he might be in love. 

**Author's Note:**

> just to be clear- I watched a youtube video on how to reset a broken nose, and am not a doctor or medical professional of any sort. Do not attempt what Mutsuki did- find someone who knows what they're doing and have them reset it.


End file.
